Track Listing:
Click for Lyrics
1. Vlad the Impaler
2. Poor Sir Newton (listen)
3. Infinity
4. Don't Shout Anna (listen)
5. What You Wanted
6. Beth Newell Takes a Silver Platter
7. The Life I Lose
8. Russia Poland
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Vlad the Impaler
Vlad was an impaler
But he never impaled nobody's heart like you've just done to me little darling.
Buddy in the back seat, you're in the front seat telling me directions to go-oh-oh
I'm swerving, curving round those roads. I don't think; I just know.
Don't you think, don't you know that heaven is a place we'll go.
And don't you wander around these roads looking for somewhere to go?
Aren't these just words that I just heard. Ain't blue just a kind of bird?
Don't these concepts become all blurred at least that's what I've always overheard.
Poor Sir Newton
I am sitting with my hands in my pockets
Thinking I can feel the whole way down my leg.
And all my precious things have fallen out
And scampered on their way.
Cuz they know something I abandoned
Long ago when everything had wheels and sails
That once we put our minds to moving
We're little more than snails.
All around the world the indolence has tied up all the citizens and dismissed
The ideas that Isaac and his countrymen found in the orchards.
And upside-down my inner ear makes the horizon disappear
So even if I wanted I would never know the direction I should go.
Everyone is technocratic.
Where's the fun in sleeping in the sun?
We have time for anything thing we want
Cuz all our Chores are Done.
But now I'm drinking Constant Comment
And thinking back to Isaac in the trees
If an orange had fallen instead
Would we still be so at ease?
All around the world the indulgence has tied up all the citizens and dismissed
the ideas that Isaac found and should have left back in the orchards
If we're not careful we'll end up ending upside-down.
Infinity
There's at least one week left on the earth
And at least seven mothers left to give birth.
Seven days and eight minutes left on the sun
Take my hand I'll use the other one.
My first name might be boring but my last name is Infinity!
I see you and me being seeing beings in the sea.
My first name might be boring but my last name is Infinity.
There's a port leaving the earth today.
Our rapport will not leave us a moment to spare.
We must prepare to enter our space and time.
We must beware of ambiguous word use and rhyme.
You are a mother of four but I won't hold that against you.
I'll behold that we have expertise.
What if death never touched us? What if agony didn't hurt?
Oh if I could just use my thrusters to get into your mega-skirt!
Don't Shout Anna
Don't shout Anna. You're not Anna anymore you're someone else completely.
Don't shout Anna. You're not Anna now and I'm not sure you ever were.
This highway is stretching for miles and plans to stay with us while we sit and cuss
About the weather and parking garages and silk things and part-time massages,
Character and apartheid barrages, So-Cal and digital watches.
This is our last crash for niceness so lets put on our long pants and I'll go home
This plan is flawed, this life a reward
Our backs sign out; our signs make more and my only thought is to not shout Anna.
What You Wanted
What's this static for?
Did you bring it along just in case I was gone and you needed to belong?
What's this baggage for?
Did you think we'd get lost and how much does it cost and will I be prepared
To ask a question and risk pretention?
In this direction, we'll never make it home.
This is all I have left:
Starving artist innocence.
Freezing, tired, no regrets,
I gave you what you wanted.
Beth Newell Takes a Silver Platter
Ten and one. Good point!? We cheer.
Sloppily corked, ten bucks worth of beer was spilled down a stranger's shirt.
For what it's worth, I don't think he was bothered much by the smell.
Or if he was, he never conveyed it well.
Thirteen hours ago, we sat and ate
Fresh roses and cucumbers from a bird-printed plate
"That belonged to Grandma at one point," you said
Before taking bread and casually slipping it to your purse.
No one ever noticed, though, and that made it worse
For you and me and our subtle sense of morality:
Kind but not too kind, brave but hardly chipper,
Blank but never with her vacant stares.
Just sleep nicely.
When I grow up, here's something to do:
Rest on my laurels now, and search more for you:
In the country? In the city? Asleep in your bed?
Hunting down farm animals at your parents stead?
Plasticing their windows at their behest?
Wintering their dinners when they think it best?
Or pardoning their manners at every request?
And now, and here, eating cake mix in my underwear
If this is second best I'll take it.
If it's shiny then I'll take it.
Then it's settled: let's sleep nicely.
We'll just sleep nicely.
She says: necklace colors in your drawer working as bad metaphor
Napkin holders held at diners, content and wetter sidewalk shiners
It's almost more than I can take
The Life I Lose
When I was five I'd pretend that I could fly
But that never worked out right
Then I turned 16 and learned how to drive
But that never ever quite felt right
At 18 I could finally buy my own cigarettes and try to defy
The whole institution with my state of mind
And now I'm 25 and can represent the people I live by
And it's about time, cuz they're restless and they don’t know why.
Feelings hide your feelings everybody hide your feelings
don't get emotional No no no.
Feelings hide your feelings and we'll keep them believing
They are in control that's the way to go go go.
Last night, I dreamt my name was changed
To be the same as everyone I met
And I felt like a color in a photograph
And the years flew past while I slowly faded away
And I couldn't remember my name
But I woke and it was still today!
That's the life I lose: the life to choose.
The Itch that can’t be scratched is on my back.
Russia Poland, Russia Poland, Russia Poland...
18-carot gold bars never meant that much
when you're driving in your car and you can't find the clutch
And everybody makes you so mad you can't see straight
And you know you feel so bad because you can't mate
There's a noise that hides deep in my pockets
There are boys who hide in sockets of fun,
Who'll travel in pouches, who know their charkas,
And sure aren't fucking around with this one.
Hep 2,3,4 you're in the army now, boy.
Grrrreateen seventy-nine was not the best year for wine.
It wasn't the best year for me because not a soul knew my name.
But here I am, truckin' anyway seeing how filet mignon is french for
"I can't taste the difference in this damn thing really."
If I were born in future times, I'd say let's all be nice. Let's be Taoists.
Let's be brothers and sisters and family with talent.
And I'd be beaten over the head with a shovel for that one.
You're like a can of grapes: simple to use, but not for apes.
Your back seems like it's made of metal
Because it moves when it is hot and not when it is not.
By those same standards I realize it's like a salamander as well.
I'd like to be a Jew but I never was invited.
Also I'd like to be with you but I never was invited.
The past was great if you knew what it was but I don't because I forget.
I've made a point to stick to the point, but the point was never made,
so I stick to nothing, nothing like muffins.
There are a lot of things I know but I guess you are not one of them.
